“Snow White’s in Texas” by Sarah Blake

Snow White’s in Texas

I went to a party on a ranch where everyone took off their clothes, playing strip beer pong, strip flip cup, strip anything. I did not take off my dress, not even when the Texas sun asked me to, not even to sleep. I got wasted and then slept in the grass, then on a bathroom floor, then in bed, all the while getting sick up on my knees until I could pull in, again, my legs to my stomach. In the morning the men passed me, bare-chested, smelling of Lone Star and cows, as if birthed from the earth of Texas, from the shit of it. They were the darlings of the new day.

Sarah Blake

Sarah Blake is the author of two poetry collections, Let's Not Live on Earth and Mr. West, both from Wesleyan University Press. An illustrated workbook accompanies her chapbook, Named After Death (Banango Editions). In 2013, she was awarded a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship. Her debut novel, Naamah, is forthcoming from Riverhead Books. She lives outside of Philadelphia with her husband and son.

Photo Credit: Staff